


Find out who you are (and get the blood off your clothes)

by mocking_scoutandjem



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, The 100 - Freeform, au: hot mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocking_scoutandjem/pseuds/mocking_scoutandjem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an AU prompt that caught my eye, i started writing it for the ship BELLARKE from the 100 and for some reason i couldn't stop! this was the prompt: this is from a 'hot mess au' post: 'i'm in my underpants in a laundromat waiting for my clothes to get washed and your clothes are in the machine next to mine and i noticed that when you put your clothes in they were all covered in blood what the fuck' au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find out who you are (and get the blood off your clothes)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my FIRST EVER fanfic, i hope you like it, feel free to leave comments with criticism or praise. i'm always open to helpful suggestions! please and thank you for reading, i so appreciate any and all support. i'm open to doing other works, AUs or not, if you want? check out my tumblr for my otps or shows i watch so you know to whom i can cater, id hate to wreck a character for you by writing a terrible fic! my tumblr URL is mocking-scoutandjem

The loud, repetitive clang coming from the inside of the machine is all that fills the silence in the Laundromat. Clarke’s hands are shaking as they rest folded in her lap. She feels like she should be covering her bare stomach with her arms but what would be the point, now, anyway? It’s not cold outside and she has been sitting next to the shaggy-haired stranger for almost 10 minutes now. The first impression has been made and they’d both done a stirring job of it. The lacy pink bra she’s wearing also has a little mark on it so she would have liked to toss that in too but Clarke felt she had to draw the line somewhere. No one wants to see a topless weirdo washing their clothes at 3 on a Thursday afternoon. Although its unlikely that if anyone else did happen to walk by, they would think her the strange one. The man next to her looked a little older than Clarke and had a small scrape across his cheek. He, like her, was obviously washing the only clothes he owned since all he had on was an oversized jumper. Clarke was unsure whether he was even wearing underwear on his bottom half.  
Biting her lip, she uncrossed her legs and unstuck them from the plastic chairs provided to dangle them underneath. She hastily checked the time on the machine again to see that, since the last staring competition with it, it had lessened very un-considerably. By now, she was seriously contemplating abandoning the few t-shirts and shorts that she had so elegantly thrown in and swung shut the door on, automatically starting the wash and rinse cycle. She didn’t know if she wanted to stick around to wait and collect the items that remained locked in the literally tumultuous prison. Trying her best not to look to her right at the man, she felt her eyes wander up, to scan the ceiling uncertainly. It was a way of looking for an idea of how to turn off the water main so the clothes would become retrievable and she could get the hell away from the suspicious situation.  
The man cleared his throat, and leant forward to rest his head in his hands. His long legs stretched out in front of him. Clarke shook her head in an attempt to rid her mind of the thoughts that had flooded it when she’d glanced to see what he was doing. They were not appropriate to breach when she knew nothing about this guy. She raised her eyebrows and sucked in her lips. Taking a deep breath in she hesitantly decided to release the wild dog of conversation she’d leashed as soon as he’d entered the coin laundry. Swishing her chair around to face him she crossed her legs – in what she hoped was a convincing as a confident pose – she cocked her head to one side and squinted, her expression quizzical.  
“What’s with the clothes?”  
The wavy (almost peroxide) blonde hair had, at first, seemed confronting but the sharp eyes and turned up nose on this girl’s face completed the look brilliantly. Bellamy could tell by really looking at her now, that she was short; her small body and muscly legs – which she’d somehow managed to balance, crossed, atop one of the few high plastic swivelling chairs near the drying machines – were the giveaways. He’d noted her flexibility and lean arms before he realised how much skin he could actually see. He also noted that he was obviously not particularly perceptive since this girl had only been wearing underwear the whole 10 minutes they had been sitting next to each other and this second look was the initial awareness of the fact. His mind was on other things, he supposed, such as whether Octavia had managed to get the truck to Murphy’s garage without hitting anything else.  
He smiled a little at the girl and smoothed out the side of his face with a partially red hand. “The clothes?” he said, questioning her wonderment of bloodstained garments.  
She nodded.  
Bellamy’s smile stretched wider as he finally understood. He gave a breathy chuckle and then rested his chin in one of his hands and leaned the elbow on his knee.  
“The blood isn’t human,” he began, “it’s fox.”  
“Thank Jesus.” Clarke praised, unfolding her legs again and leaning forward onto them, relieved.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He said, still lazily draping his body over the low chair.  
“You didn’t, you just…uh…scared the crap out of me, that’s all.” Clarke replied still trying to control her breathing.  
“Sorry,” Bellamy repeated.  
“No, no its fine. Really. I wasn’t sure. I saw the blood and I – I’m not even sure why I freaked out, I mean I’m an intern at the Jaha Institute over on Ark Street so bodily fluids probably shouldn’t be so…shocking, I guess. But, you know, when you see someone with that much…It’s a little threatening.” Clarke finished. By the end she was muttering the last words and had brought her hand to her mouth by way of blocking the rest of the rambling. It hadn’t worked but Bellamy had just sat – respectfully – listening throughout. He had a concerned look upon his face and one of his eyebrows poised higher than the other – and, Clarke observed, in a way that she found undeniably attractive now that serial killer potential had been ruled out.  
“I had to go out of the city to pick some stuff up with my sister and as we were just coming back, the damn animal jumped out in front of us.”  
“Is it okay?” Clarke interrupted. She felt a sudden overwhelming worry boil over inside of her. “Where is it?”  
Composing himself (he hadn't counted on her asking about the fox), Bellamy, for some reason, decided he needed to help this girl feel calm again by reassuring her. His words were rushed, “O made me…Octavia, sorry…Octavia made me pick it up, it should be okay. There were just a few cuts, maybe a broken leg or something. We took it to the vet just over there,” he turned and pointed to the clinic across the road and then back to face the girl. “She also insisted I wrap it up in my pants and shirt because it was practically vibrating and she thought that that meant it was cold…”  
“…It was probably in shock.” Clarke said.  
“That’s what I said. Anyway, so we took it over there and I got my clothes back and realised our aunt would most likely kill me for getting my only nice shirt that dirty – with blood – so now, I’m here waiting without pants on.”  
“Same.” Clarke said, commiserating with the newfound weirdo.  
“No pants?” Bellamy asked.  
“Nope. And no other clothes, either. My ex took control of the apartment so I’ve been staying with a friend. Unfortunately, she’s a mechanic and seems to only own coveralls. Which, are all covered in grease. I could’ve worn them but I put on what I thought at the time was a clean dress. I had to chuck that in too, and hope for the best that no one would come by in the meantime.”  
“You were wrong.” Bellamy said, smiling devilishly again.  
“It’s a little unfair that a tanned-rebel-fox-hitter like yourself came in un-expectantly. You are an anomaly.” Clarke said, hopping off the chair and walking to the machine that had finished churning her clothes. As she unpacked them she simultaneously placed them into the dryer next door, in an efficient yet haphazard manner. Clarke grinned tiredly.  
“This anomaly’s name is Bellamy.”  
Not looking up, she replied, “Clarke.”  
“The half naked girl: Clarke,” Bellamy announced.  
Clarke confirmed, “Sounds like a good book title. I may even do the illustrations for you.”  
Bellamy looked dubious but kept his eyes on Clarke. “Well, I will need to see some examples before any real hiring is done.”  
“It’s a date.” Clarke said, slamming the door shut on both machines. “How much time has yours got left?”  
Bellamy didn’t really want to take his eyes off Clarke but he reluctantly did, as he didn’t want her to catch him watching her so intently when she turned back around. He fumbled for his words and collected himself before saying, “20 minutes.”  
“Perfect,” Clarke remarked. “Lets go check on that fox and before we come back to chuck yours in for finishing off we can grab something to drink from Monty’s Café down the road. I’m betting you’ll love the moonshine kick they have.”  
Bellamy sat still. He was uncertain whether she really was forward or just having him on. He did have a lot of blood on him when he first came in, he could be a serial killer and this girl wanted to have coffee with him?  
“Clarke…” he started.  
“Oh, you’re right. I need to wear something other than a pink bra. Let me check the lost and found.” Clarke rounded the corner and reached down into a small cardboard box where unclaimed items were laid to rest and open for public consumption.  
Bellamy heard a muffled ‘Aha!’ and a slight giggle, a sound he did not expect this Clarke girl to expel. He bent over to try and see what she was doing but she’d popped back up and was walking towards him before he’d been able to sneak a look. As she did a faux strut and twirl Bellamy felt his cheeks raise and teeth become exposed; he was in full grin mode to match Clarke now.  
“Well, what do you think?” She asked. Bellamy swore he saw a tiny sparkle in her eye.  
She was donning a tight, clinging pink sequinned dress and a fluffy pink rimmed crown with the words ‘Bachelorette Bitch’ written in the middle of the diamantes and plastic swirls. The two strangers now stood in front of each other, very little distance separating them. Bellamy let his gaze take all of her in and left the bewildered look stay visible across his face. He didn’t mind that he looked a little goofy at that moment. This girl was good for him; she made him want to laugh, loudly. He didn’t now, though. Instead, he bent forward at the waist, took a step back so there was room to extend his arm. Slowly, his focus travelled up her body and up to catch hers.  
“Princess,” he said, waiting once again, but not for clothes this time.  
Clarke placed her hand in his. “Rebel king,” she said, the smile replaced with a smirk.


End file.
